Alone With You
by Elizabethbennets
Summary: With Henry missing in Neverland, Hook and Emma search for The Lost Boys, desperate to find him. While they agree to keep things "professional," Hook realizes he's falling for Emma when his tattoo of Milah begins to fade-and forms Emma's name in its place.
1. Chapter 1

9

_Alone With You_

_Prologue _

You're a stranger in this place. You're a pirate and a recluse and you have no shame; does your heart beat with coal? I know you never loved me. I know you don't understand me. You kissed me like I mattered and for that this is true: one day you'll love. You will love her so that your bones will rattle, gnawing for escape. You will love. You will lose. You'll beg for it stop.

I follow you to the Jolly Roger. That was where you seduced me. You're laughing with your mates, hands careless and abstract, and that's when I know what to do. So I wait. I watch you drink rum like water and that part of me that hates you also loves you. You laugh and joke and watch as a trail oh whores offer themselves to you. When you've had your fill, I follow you, blending into shadow. You're careless as you undress, but tonight, you're alone. There is no woman waiting.

"Good evening, Captain,"

You're not surprised to see me. You smile, that loose grin tugging on your pretty mouth.

"Ah, Melinda, my dear," You walk towards me. I say walk because that's the word for movement, but we both know you're above simple movements. What you do is effortless, gentle and with your limbs.

"I always knew you'd come back. I still have the scratches on my back," With that whisper comes a slap, and you almost look _bored_ as I back away.

"You took away my innocence. I was pure before I met you, went to your bed because I thought you'd be mine, and now no man will have me!"

I am not a miller's daughter. I am not a Queen. I am the daughter of a Priest, a holy man among a sea of thieves. My virginity kept me pure. It kept me whole in my father's eyes. And now he has shunned me.

"Melinda," you begin, and though you're calm I know you're detached. "You came to me willingly. Almost…._forcefu_l, " The grin is still there. I wonder if it will ever fade. "I never made you any promises. You'd do well to learn to never expect anything from a _pirate_, darling." You're losing your patience. I'm running out of time.

"So I was nothing to you? Just another maiden to trifle with?"

"I told you," A step forward, then back. "I never made you any promises."

You walk past me. I'm not sure if you can even see me.

"If you'd like another go round I'd be more than happy to oblige," You open the door to your cabin. Your co-captain lurks in the shadows, laughing against the open air. "Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to cut this evening short. Good night, Melinda."

"No," I step towards you, closing the door before you can react, my hands burning in yours.

"I knew you'd change—"

The grin is gone. I finally sense fear. Your hands are locked in mine, and they are _burning_.

"I am no longer a Priest's daughter, Captain Jones," You fall to the ground, desperately attempting to pull your hands from my grip, each finger breaking as I pull. "I've been learning magic, you see, and I think I've discovered a fit enough punishment for your Lothario ways."

"Get—off—me!" You gasp for air and you're fighting it but this is your punishment. Don't you see, Killian? Love is our greatest weakness. It aligns us together and it destroys us.

"You never loved me, but you will love, because love is in our nature, Captain," A groan. The lapsing pain. The sound of a muffled scream. "One day you will love, and when you do, her name will burn unto your hand, searing into your skin. With her name spelled unto you, the whole world will know, will see your true vulnerabilities, and know that _you love_."

When I let you go, there's a numbing scream. You place your hand against your chest, eyes closed, the elements of fire.

I leave you there, your agony marked in blood. From a distance I watch as your shipmates struggle to identify your pain. They can't see what I see—the mark that will spell her name. It's empty now, but not long from now, _Milah_ will curve along in black.

And then, when she is gone, a new name will appear, this one spilling in the print of a new land and a new time: _Emma_.

Chapter One

_The Lost Boys_

When he brings her to Neverland, Emma nearly looses her heart. The magic here is different—unexpected. With the threat of foreign pirates afoot, he leads her to the mermaid's cave, where one reaches from the water and claws through Emma's hair. Hook hears the scream just as he closes his eyes, and his hook is piercing through the mermaid's fins just as it finds Emma's pulse.

"What the _hell_ was that?" She places her hands above her head, where blood has begun to pool.

"_That _was a mermaid," He unravels the scarf around his neck, gingerly placing it over her scalp—there's more blood that he'd like to admit. "Vicious creatures. Jealous of beautiful women. They take them out in numbers, usually while they're asleep."

"Typical," She mumbles, letting Hook tend to her wounds. She's less defensive in the night. "Is there anywhere in this place where we won't be target by pirates or mermaids?"

"Neverland isn't like other magical realms. The magic here is generally used for evil gain," When he's satisfied the bleeding's stopped, he ties the scarf around her scalp, loose blonde locks spilling across her shoulder. Emma looks at him, and for a moment, neither of them say a word.

"That must be why you feel so at _home _here," She says, and a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"It's comforting to know your wit is in check, Emma."

"I'll watch my wit if you watch your hands. Sorry, hand and _hook_."

"I don't appreciate the insinuation that I wouldn't. We're strictly here on business. Unless you'd like to add pleasure?"

She rolls her eyes, walking away from the lake of luring mermaids. "We find Henry and we leave."

The fire is quickly losing it's flame, and she absently adds more branches.

On their first night, she told him she wanted to be alone. She slept in far off corners, detached. Things changed by the end of the first week. Five days in and they still hadn't found Henry—there was no sign of the Lost Boys; they left no trace or path. He had told her repeatedly, often several times a day: to find Henry, they had to find the Lost Boys. That was their purpose. They found others like them—other boys who were lost, no home or place to claim. Emma began to loose her patience and sense of resolve, and as the days ware on, Hook notices that the bridge between them has started to gap.

"It's been three weeks, Hook,"

He sits across from her, peering through the flickering light. "We'll find them. We're getting closer."

"Are we, though? Or are you just saying that to-it's been three weeks. How is it that _no one_ has seen them?"

"That's how the Lost Boys operate. They keep moving, never dwelling in the same place for long. They changed their routine when Pan left."

She nods, but doesn't say a word. As the clock elapses her worry increases ten fold. Her son is missing. Milah's grandson is missing.

"You don't need to hide it from me, love."

"Hide what?" She brings her knees to her chest, avoiding his gaze.

"Your concern. I can read it all over you."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. We don't need to lie. For better or for worse, we're in this together," He reaches into the satchel at his side, pulling out an aged bottle of rum. He takes a long drink, feeling it sear through his throat and into his stomach. When he's had his fill, he hands her the bottle, and she drinks without complaint.

"You don't have to do this, Hook," The rum is empty. Her voice rises, straining. They are alone here, with nothing but the chain of stars and with each other. "Any of it. Just because Henry is Milah's grandson doesn't mean you have to be here."

"You think I'm here because of Milah?"

She turns to face him. Her mouth is open, her expression painted with confusion. "You're _not _here because of Milah?

He smiles, enjoying the unsettled perception of understanding that lies between them. He takes pleasure in besting her—when she's caught of guard, she's vulnerable with him, and right now, all they have are the stars above them, speckled into night. "Rumpelstiltskin tried to banish his own grandchild to the nether realm. I relish in any form of defeat over his carefully thought out plots."

"So this is about beating Gold, then," She raises an eyebrow, hands clasped at the knees. "I should have known. Pure error on my part."

"Let's just agree it's a combination of all of the above. And maybe," He leans closer to her, inches from where she sits. "I relished at the chance to be alone with you. How do you feel about swimming in the nude?"

Emma playfully slaps him on the shoulder, ignoring the laughter that ruptures from his mouth.

"I'm seconds away from giving you up to the dark mermaids."

"Now that's something I'd like to see. Will you be using your _wit_ to force me into the uncharted waters?"

"_Goodnight,_ Hook," She stands up, dusting the sand from her jeans.

He watches as she walks towards higher ground, her bag now slung over her shoulders. Something shifts. He feels an emptiness where moments earlier he felt peace.

"Emma," he suddenly calls, struggling to understand the weight of his empathy for her. He hates watching her go, and he can't quite understand why. "We're going to find Henry."

He notes the faint outline of a smile, one that he can trace even in the dark. "I know."

He won't see her again until morning. He prefers to sleep closer to the water, and as he aligns himself across a bed of leaves, he notices something he didn't see before. His tattoo of Milah's name is fading. Raising his palm towards the moon, he sees the black ink has diminished and dimmed.

"What the bloody—" He sits up, still, peering at the letters that were once whole. The vindictive Melinda had thought she was cursing him—fool's magic, really; her spell was a blessing muted as a curse. He wears Milah's name proudly, years after she has gone. But now something is wrong. He's losing her, in every sense of the word, and the thought brings him nothing but grief.

_The magic here is different, you blubbering idiot, _

He tries to reason with himself but he knows it's a delusion. He's been here before. Neverland is not unknown to him.

He falls into a restless sleep. He sees Milah but she is no where to him. She fades from sight, a lost memory he can only glimpse. And then there is Emma, a ray of light.

_Hook?_

_Milah?_

_HOOK_

Her voice punctures the air around him, startling him to the day.

"Emma?" She hovers over him, and all he sees are the pure eyes untamed, her hair like a sheathe of water hanging to her waist.

"I've been trying to wake you, you keep muttering Milah's name," She helps him stand, her hands clasped around his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Must be the rum," The sun is blinding. The stars have gone. "Went straight to my head, perhaps." Her hands are still there, tied around his wrist, and he feels an odd sensation lurching in the pit of his stomach, rising to his chest.

"I'll go see if I can find us some food. It might help."

"Good idea,"

He's very aware of his senses when she finally lets go, treading past the lake. His wrist feels empty. _He_ feels empty. When he's sure she's gone up the hill, he uses his hook to pull back the scarf he's tied around his hand. The first one he gave her, high on the beanstalk. The _M_ is nearly gone now, far lighter than before. And that's when he begins to wonder. He forgets the pattern of her footsteps, but he can recall the exact shape of her mouth and the curve of her neck. He's memorized her perfume. He looks at the spot she trailed past, then back at his tattoo. The thought of her brings the feeling back: the spot she's touched his numb. And that is when he knows what's happening.


	2. Chapter 2--Pixie Hollow

Chapter 2

_Pixie Hollow_

This isn't the story she remembers. Miles from the mermaid's cave, Hook leads her past a fort of pirate's nests and Indian trails. Three weeks through Neverland and she's still not used to the sound of sullen stars. She watches as Hook adjusts his compass and his binoculars, peering through the untamed lands in search of the Lost Boy's current hideout.

"To the east should be Pixie Hollow," With the compass pointing east, she leans over his shoulder, peering at the golden rim.

"_Should_ be?"

"The fairies change the location every few months to misguide intruders. Pirates, to be precise," She notes the smile again—the one he wears when he talks about pirates and shipwrecks on shore.

"If they change the location, how do you know it's east?"

"I know they're pattern well. Their last location wasn't far from Mermaid's Lagoon, which is west."

"Right—I'll take your word for it."

He looks at her, that grin hanging from the tongue, and Emma can't help but but feel that tug of attraction, the one that she's been feeling since they've entered Neverland. She never follows far behind, and in the most unexpected moments, she's caught herself admiring the way his hand slides over the compass, delicate and slow. It's a raw motion-the way he touches. His movements are sensual, always deliberate and fluid; his long fingers can focus on one item for extended periods of time, his devotion to detail astounding. She wonders what kind of detail he would consider to a single kiss, the time allotted to a gentle caress, and in those moments, she is horrified at where her thoughts have led her.

Emma won't lie to herself. Hook is a beautiful man. And she's attracted to him in ways she won't ever admit. As he leads her past waterfalls and lush trees, she admires his tone and lean body.

_Oh my God, Emma, stop staring at his _ass_, _

"Jesus,"

"Did you say something, love?"

"No," She's too quick to respond, a burning blush forming on her cheeks. "Nothing."

He gives her a questionable look, startled by the sudden change in her behavior.

"How long until we get there?" Anything. Anything at all. They've been stuck together for too long, the waning hours leading to loneliness. That was all it was.

"Hopefully by night fall. Sooner if we only stop for one meal."

"Whatever gets us there the quickest."

When they reach a clearing, they stop for a quick meal of bread and cheese, dividing the remainder of the fish. Hook shows her the map again, detailing the exact points of Indian Camp and Skull Rock should they be separated. The Jolly Roger is stationed at the Rock, Hook's former home, and the dwelling of pirates. Though he's had a recent falling out with a few of his mates, a pirate never turns on another pirate, and they reluctantly agree to keep the Jolly Roger safe until their return.

"Remember," The map is folded between them, aged lines forming into creases, "The Indians stationed at _this_ camp are far more likely to help you than the ones here. Some of them are kind, but for the most part, they're an unpleasant lot. Cater to themselves."

"And under no circumstance—"

"Approach a mermaid. I _know_, Hook," She reaches for the map, rolling it in half before he can protest. "You've told me a thousand times. And after what happened last night am I_ likely_ to go near a mermaid? She nearly tore my head off,"

He smiles sweetly, leaning into her. His hand is on her knee, but she doesn't protest. "And I'll tell you a thousand times more. You think last night was the worst of it? What you saw was tame. The mermaids at the cove are far sweeter than the mermaids who dwell at the Lagoon. You best remember that, lass."

"I know how to take care of myself. The mermaids don't scare me," She begins to pack their things, eager to continue. Her thoughts always steer towards Henry.

"Well, they should. I once knew a blubbering excuse of a pirate. Bloody idiot, that one was—thought he could charm a mermaid into bringing him a saucy Indian girl. Would you like to know what became of him, Emma?"

She rolls her eyes, adjusting her sword into her belt. "Please tell me she threw him overboard and put him out of his misery."

He grins, following her back up the narrow path. "You ruined the ending to my story."

"it was a predictable story."

"Pirates are anything but predicable."

"Debatable."

They argue until they're hoarse, voices raw and used. They briefly stop for water then, continuing their journey east. By early evening, they're both exhausted from a day of heavy walking, and Emma doesn't resist when Hook takes her by the hand. It's easier to walk in sync, and she finds comfort in her fingers knitted through his. They can't be parted when they're locked together.

When it begins to rain, they know they can't go on. Beneath a nearby cave, they set up camp, forming a fire at the mouth. There is no thunder in Neverland, he tells her. Only water that spits from the stars. The night is cold and damp. Despite her best efforts, she can't warm herself, shivering beneath the thin blanket she has. She hates that it rains in Neverland. She hates that she could have found her son tonight and she hates that the rain delayed them here. It's cold and daunting, just like any other place, and she misses Henry so much she wants to cry.

_You will find him. Pull yourself together, Emma._

It's cold and the rain comes in sheets of ice. The fire feels miles away.

"Emma,"

Hook's voice is closer than she recalls. "Come here."

"What?  
"You're freezing, come here,"

When she doesn't move, he wraps his arm around her, draping his blanket over their locked limbs. She immediately feels a rush of warmth, her frozen bones sighing in relief.

"What are you doing?"

"You've been shivering for the past half hour. I promise I'll remain a perfect gentleman," She can feel him grinning into her neck, and her stomach lurches with heat.

"_One_ wrong move—"

"And I'll allow you to sever my hook. Now go to sleep."

But she can't sleep. She's very aware of the arm draped over her body, the feel of his chest against her back, the gentle way he adjusts the blanket so that it's on her more than it is on him. He's a deliberate man. A detailed man, and Emma comes to the realization that its been a very long time since she's slept with a man beside her. When she finally falls asleep, all she sees are the stars.

He wakes before she does. For a moment or perhaps longer, he watches her sleep. His arm is still draped around her. He can't bring himself to move. This shift between them, this intimacy of sorts, is too good to ruin. Before he turned out the fire and placed himself beside her, he checked the tattoo. It continues to fade, lighter than the night before. He doesn't want to lose Milah. The though is unimaginable. But something is happening here, something he can't control, and the tightening in his throat tells him that he's falling in love with the girl sleeping at his side. He knows what the curse means—how the magic works. Milah's name is disappearing, and Emma's name will soon be emblazed onto his skin.

It shouldn't have been this easy to accept the fact. Nothing with Emma is easy. She argues and she fights back, taking control when he least expects it. If he's truthful with himself, he enjoys every second of their banter, craving her next bout of wit.

He contemplates the tattoo, the change of the tide, when she stirs next to him. He gently moves his arm, giving her room to sit up.

"What time is it?" Stretching back her arms, she yawns as she moves.

"Almost eight."

"We should probably start moving," Untangling herself from the mess of sheets, she peers down at him, shirtless and hazed with sleep. Hook looks up at her, her back exposed, and he fights the urge to kiss her. There is a second of uncertainty. He fights the urge to kiss her, and Emma fights the urge to lean into his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

They don't speak as they walk. The air between them has changed. Emma doesn't like this. She can't _become_ this. She has to remember the promise she made to herself—the one that means never trusting anyone again. Henry is the only light. She has to think of Henry. He can't be far from her now, and the thought propels her into action.

He keeps a steady pace behind her, and she wonders if he's as preoccupied as she is. These moments lead them no where.

"Stop," He suddenly uses his hook to stall her movements, staring at a nearby clearing.

"What?" The objective was to move _further_ from him; a safe distance to rationalize her thoughts. But his hook is on her shoulder, and he's muttering to himself as he stares at the path past a clear blue river.

"Follow me,"

She sighs. He ignores her. Along the clearing, a luminous light nearly blinds her.

"What the—"

"They're here," Something in the light is tangible—something on the ground. Hook falls to the grass, using his hand to survey the area.

"_This_ is Pixie Hollow?"

"The light—it's dried up pixie dust. Have a look," She leans over his shoulder, surveying the brilliant golden specks that now line his palm.

"Of _course_ it's dried up pixie dust. I should have known."

He grins beneath the light, looking forward. "Your sarcasm is one of your finer qualities, Emma."

There are no fairy's in sight. None that they can see. Hook follows the trail further down the river, and Emma follows, certain that the light doesn't shine for her the way it does for him. Maybe that part of the story is true—maybe fairies, like mermaids, resent other women. Beautiful women.

"Ah,_ look_ at what we have here,"

Emma watches as Hook knocks on a nearby branch, the tree shining through a luminous shade of white. He smiles when a small bright figure flitters towards him, settling on his hook.

"Tink, my love, you've never looked more radiant,"

She giggles, a splash of pixie dust swirling in her midst.

"Hold up—_Tink_? As in _Tinker bell_?"

Tinker Bell carefully surveys Emma, a curve of disgust beginning to line her dainty mouth. Hook takes a step back, apprehending the change in her small stature.

"Honestly, Swan, you've been in Neverland for nearly a month and this surprises you?"

"It's not _Tinker Bell_ that's unexpected," She doesn't miss the step backwards. Emma is a perceptive woman. And right now, she's very aware of the fact that she's jealous of a fairy, and the thought is enough to humiliate her. "It's your warm welcome, Hook. In the stories from _my_ world, Tinker Bell hates you. And you hate her."

"Yes, but in those stories, I'm also Peter Pan's most vile enemy."

"You're _not_ Peter Pan's most vile enemy?"

He laughs at the sudden expression of bewilderment, and a string of giggles and white magic tells him more fairies have arrived to their exchange.

"Bullocks, no. Pan and I have had our differences, but we've been allies on more than one occasion. He's a good bloke."

"You tell her, Hook!" Tink blows him a kiss, and the fairies surrounding them offer him their own blown kisses. Emma watches as they crowd around him, rolling her eyes as one settles on his shoulder and falls asleep.

"I can see why you never said anything. Doesn't do much for your reputation, does it?"

"You can mock," He grins, "But I maintain there are worse things in life than being adorned by beautiful fairies."

"Yes, you're unnaturally soft side being one. Getting softer by the minute, apparently," The sexual implication is not lost on him, and he can't help but smile back at her.

"You'll soon see how wrong you are about that, Emma. Not attachment here is…_soft_." Tinker Bell notes his wink. The way she rolls her eyes back. The nature of their movements tells her they know their roles well.

"_Hook_," Pixie dust flies through his hair, dusting his skin as it goes. "Who _is _this girl? I haven't seen you in ages and you come to the Hollow with _her_?"

"I know, love, and you have every right to be cross with me, but Emma and I are here on a very important mission."

The weight of this settles between them. Tink stands straighter, shoulders back, motioning to the other fairies. A few of them glare at Emma as they pass, while one nearly knocks Emma off her balance.

_Yup, definitely right about the fairies, _

She almost prefers the mermaids.

"We're in your service, Captain! Is it gold and riches you search for? The Indians?"

"Not this time," He says, looking at Emma before he goes on. "Tink, do you know the current hideout of the Lost Boys? It's very imperative that we find them."

"Ohhh, you know they don't like it when the grown-ups come looking,"

"I know, darling, but this is very important. If you or any of your girls know anything—I would be _deeply_ in your debt."

_Damn, he's good, _

Emma watches in amazement as they begin to whisper, collecting and relaying pieces of their news. The possibility of a favor from the great Captain Hook has their pixie dust in motion, spilling all across the Hollow.

"We want to tell _you_, Hook," A glance towards Emma tells him all he needs to know. "We just don't want to speak up with _her_ here."

Forgetting that she's in the clearing of fairies, pixie dust streaking through the path, Emma loses all that's left of her patience. "That's it,"

"Listen up, _TInk_,"

_"Emma—"_

Pushing his hand away from her arm, she approaches the fairy, her anger flaring. "My _son_ is missing. He's been missing for weeks and we know he's with the Lost Boys, so cut the _crap_ and tell us where we can find them!"

"Down," His voice is dangerous. There is no calm.

_"What?"_

"Stay _down_,"

Before she can react, a ray of light blocks her vision, bright and harrowing as she falls to the ground. This part of the story she remembers: Wendy, idyllic and pure, torn and shredded by the light. Covering her eyes, she feels Hook drape himself over her, shielding her from the attack.

"Tink, Emma is not accustomed to our ways—she doesn't know what's expected!"

She can barely hear him over the sound of screeching fairies. The sound is more blinding than the light. "She is a very concerned mother, and I am asking you to _please_ desist,"

Darkness. The light pulls back. After a few moments, Hook slowly pulls himself off of her, guiding her from the ground. Cuts and scratches line her hands and arm, forming at her neck and at her collarbone. She doesn't dare move.

"She is _very_ sorry, aren't you, Emma?"

She nods. She doesn't look at him.

"Surely you can understand that she is motivated by love?" A chain of whispers pass. They are not forgiving creatures, but they have no limits with Hook. Tink listens as one fairy motions to her, then another. The circle moves. Finally, Tink turns to Hook, a smug grin sitting on her mouth.

"Her _son_—is he called Henry?"

Emma looks up, mouth open, hope burning through her limbs, but Hook giver her a warning glance, and she lets him walk away from her.

Hook and Tink are lined together, pirate and fairy connected in a hush.

"The boy is called Henry."

"Good," Wings fluttering at the core, her excitement roars. "I can tell you where to find the Lost Boys. I know exactly where they are."

_"You can't be serious."_

_ David looks at his daughter, the concern etched onto his expression. "He can't be trusted, Emma,"_

_ "Hook isn't the problem here," Emma turns to Mary Margaret, who faces her daughter with an instrument of support. "I think you know that."_

_ "She's right, David,"_

_ "How can you be so quick to jump to his defense? After everything he's done?"_

_ "Because," Emma begins, shifting towards the station. Hook is inside, lying in a cell, apathetic to the world around him. When he finally found his way back to Storybrooke, it wasn't long before he attempted to find Gold. But it had been days. He didn't know Cora was dead and Gold was seriously injured, and he didn't protest when David hauled him into his cell. "Because I'm still standing here. And because _Belle_ is still alive. He could have easily killed her the night she lost her memory. He is _not_ the problem." She repeats, and David finally resolves._

_ "Fine. Do what you need to do. But," he steps towards her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Your mother and I will be right outside. We're not taking any chances, alright?"_

_ Emma nods, letting her father kiss her on the forehead before Mary Margaret embraces her daughter. "You have a big heart, Emma."_

_ "Not like yours." She says, finally taking the keys from David. Emma can feel her parents watching her as she enters the station, alerting Hook to her arrival. Lying on the cot, he slowly stands as she approaches, keeping his hand flat across his chest. She can see the tattoo from a distance, Milah's name crooked in the dark. _

_ "Good morning, gorgeous. Come to keep me entertained?" _

_ Las time it was her on the other side of the cell, mystical and full of hope. Through his smile she can see all the cracks: dark circles pool at his eyes, his dark hair unkempt and untrimmed. He's pale and demur, and Emma wonders if he's finally given up._

_ "Not quite," She reaches for the lock, pulling it back as the key slides into the hole. With eyebrows raised, he doesn't say a word as she opens the door to the cell, to surprised to counteract with a sexual innuendo. _

_ "What are you doing?" The door is open, but he makes no move to leave._

_ "I'm letting you go. You're a free man, Hook."_

_ "Why?" Suspicious and greatly sleep-deprived, he's not used to fortune, and certainly not now. Not here. _

_ "Because you are not the villain here."_

_ "No?"_

_ "No. I'm letting you go because you're not a threat. You won't go after Gold again."_

_ He laughs, and the sound is both menacing and hallow. "Confident, aren't we? And what makes you so certain I won't spend the rest of my days hunting the crocodile?"_

_ She keeps her arms crossed, curious to the all the signs she missed, and for a moment she wonders if he threw himself in front of that car._

_ "You saved Aurora's heart. You didn't kill Belle." Stepping towards him, she notes how he turns away, refusing to believe that he isn't the villain of this story. "Gold took your girl. So why didn't you take his?"_

_ "Because I refuse to become anything like him. Because even a _pirate_ has his limits."_

_ When he finally looks at her, she's leaning against the wall, unnerved. "But don't misunderstand me, Swan—there's nothing I wouldn't do for vengeance."_

_ "I understand you perfectly. You're motivated by love—just like the rest of us," Before he can respond, she tells him the one thing that she can't forget. It's part of the speech she keeps repeating to herself. "Bae is Henry's father," She pauses, letting the words take their course. Hook looks at her as if he's seeing through her, unable to shake the feeling that something has just set itself in motion. _

_ "You're telling me," There's a pounding in his head and it won't stop. Why does everything hurt? "That your boy is Milah's _grandson_?" _

_ "I didn't—I knew him as Neal. I didn't know who he was when I met him I had no idea."  
She steps closer. They're closer now than they've been before, and he remembers the beanstalk. The scarf. The moment she left him there, though he hadn't told her a lie._

_ "Hook, if you loved Milah as much as I _know_ you did, then you wouldn't be able to do anything that would hurt her or her family," They're both inside the cell now. There is little light. "And right now, hurting Gold hurts Henry."_

_ "Can you honestly tell me that Gold _cares_ for your son?"_

_ "No, I can't," This is a fine line, too. "But Henry just found his father, and he's trying to figure out what that means. Whether any of us care to admit it, Gold is part of that equation."_

_ "Oh, I see," If he closes his eyes maybe it will all fade away. "So Rumpelstiltskin is allowed to bond with the family he deprived Milah. Tell me, Emma—in what world is that _just_?"_

_ "I know it's not easy to hear. He doesn't deserve any of it. But I am willing to give you the chance to get to know Henry, too."_

_ "And why would you do that, darling?" Before she can react, he raises his hook to her neck. "I know how you see me. I know you don't trust me."_

_ "Because I _should_ have trusted you." She doesn't move. She closes her eyes, feeling the hook softly move through her hair, from the nape of the neck forward. "I know that now."_

_ He gently backs away, feeling the weight of her absence. "You regret it now?"_

_ "More than I'm willing to admit. I need you in my corner, Hook."_

_ "I can see that's not so easy to attest to, either. This is all very new for you, isn't it?"_

_ She snorts, letting her hands runs through her hair. Her frustration is apparent in her movements, from the way she moves her limbs, unable to stand still. "You're really enjoying this."_

_ "Clearly. I may need to hear that you _need_ me one more time before I commit myself to anything." He licks his lips, enjoying the expression of exasperation that lines her features. "Maybe we can work out an….arrangement?"_

_ "Maybe you you'd like to keep your _remaining_ attachments?"_

_ "Ah, I have missed out banter," Stifling a yawn, he lets his hand touch his temple, feeling the burning of his headache. Emma notices the way he presses against his forehead, his eyebrows kitted together in pain, and she softens towards him._

_ "When was the last time you ate?"_

_ "Can't remember, actually,"_

_ "Well, come on," He still hasn't left the cell. She waits for his exit. "Granny's is known for quality burgers."_

_ He hasn't a clue what a burger is, but she's waiting for him, and despite everything that's happened, she's giving him a second chance, a moment of resolve. _


	3. Chapter 3--The Lost Boys (Part II)

Chapter 3

_The Lost Boys (Part II)_

_Once I had a love and it was divine,_

_Soon found out I was losing my mind_

_-Heart of Glass _

She trails past the Hollow with that look in her eye. Emma's thoughts are on Henry and Henry alone. When they get back to Storybrooke, things will be different. She's going to fight to protect her son, because he's the thing she loves most.

"Emma, slow _down_,"

He moves fast, his hand on the small of her back. She ignores the feeling.

"Why? We know where Henry is now—no more delays, Hook,"

"We need a _plan_, woman!"

She laughs, and the sound catches in her throat. "Mr. Carpe diem-you only live-once thinks we need a plan? Are you suffering from duel personalities?"

He doesn't smile. Right now, he's all to aware of the line of cuts and scratches that pave her arms, the hysteria lingering in her eyes, and he can't remember the last time he was this worried for someone other than himself.

"If the Lost Boys are indeed camped by Skull Rock, then yes, we need a plan," Tink hovers between them, a light cast in the glare. "Pirates are ruthless and they are every bit as dangerous as the stories you've read. You know this ending."

"I think I liked you better when you were hot-headed and dove head first into the thick of action. What are the chances I can get _that _Hook on board?"

"This isn't a joke!" With his hand now tight around her arm, he closes the space between them, their mouths inches apart. He can almost taste her.

"No, it's not! This is my son's life, and we've already wasted too much time!" Breaking the chain between them, she angrily pulls herself back.

"And you _will _lose him if you don't act with caution! You think I _enjoy_ being the voice of reason?" His voice is softer now, but only so. Emma won't look at him. She's staring at something in the distance, that hard look in her eyes, wishing for Henry and wishing for him now.

"Everything I've done up until this point has been to protect you and Henry. I know this place like the back of my hand. I know those pirates. They're not like the ones who guard the Jolly Roger. They're vile creatures, vicious to their core. One wrong move, Emma, and he's gone."

When she finally holds his gaze, she sees a mixture of concern and pleading. They spent a dozen days searching for the Hollow, another day Henry was further away from her. Deep down, rooted to her core, she knows he is right. But that doesn't matter just then—not now. She needs someone to blame, someone to be angry with, because her son is hiding somewhere near a band of pirates and she chooses him. Emma chooses Hook because he is the person she trusts most.

"You think I don't know what they're capable of? You're not so different from them. I've seen it with you and it's all the _same_, isn't it, Hook?"

There is a feeling of guilt. For a moment he looks as if she's slapped him, the hurt and bewilderment strung across his face, and she almost feels badly. He recovers. He always does.

"So that's what you think of me, is it? Vicious at the core?"

She shrugs. "It's what I know." Tink flutters in anger, but she ignores that, too. She recalls the map from memory and begins to walk, thinking only of Henry and Skull Rock. Though she doesn't look back, she can soon feel Hook pacing behind her, Tink next to him, a sound of light and dust.

"You're not _really _going to let her go in there alone, are you, Hook? Captain Wraith will pull her head off," The thought is like a dream to her, and the look of wishful thinking that crosses the fairy is not lost on Hook.

"God, no. She's impulsive and tempered, but she's not stupid. Once she's had the time to calm herself and think things through she'll do the logical thing. The _safe_ thing."

"She seems stupid to _me._ Some mother—getting her son lost in _Neverland_."

The strides she keeps are slow but keep her going. She hasn't turned back once, and Hook isn't sure if she knows he's still there, watching her every move. Emma is moving further away. Suddenly he's afraid he'll lose her, and forces Tink to use her dust as a shield of protection.

"Actually, Tink, I'm afraid I'm the one to blame. I sent the boy here."

Tink looks down at him, a trail of pixie dust shooting from her fingertips towards Emma. An invisible casing forms around her.

"_You_?"

"Afraid so. His _grandfather_ attempted to send him to the black space—the empty chain. He opened the portal and let Henry fall through. I threw in the the last remainder of pixie dust I had left and sent him here."

"What a grandfather! What a _bully_!"

Hook nods, fondly recalling the look of horror on Rumple's face when he realized what Hook had done. He would have succeeded in killing Hook then and there if Emma hadn't used her magic to render him unconscious, causing him to fall into a coma. He smiles, licking his lips, thinking of him lying in the hospital without Bae and Belle at his side.

"_You_ saved his life. You're _a hero_."

"I am no such thing, Tink,"

"You _are_. _She's _just too blind to see it."

It's pretty to think so, isn't it? Hook doesn't want to play the hero. He knows he's no such thing. But he can't forget the smile she gave him—the gratitude that was there when she saw what he had done. He told himself it was all for Milah, but he knows better now. There are two women in this story.

He meets her pace, and when she looks at him, she rolls her eyes.

"Still here?"

"I'm not going anywhere, love, no matter how little you think of me." Something in his voice resonates with her—she doesn't know if it's the words or the way he says them or both, but now the guilt overwhelms her. There is a moment. Just as she's about to apologize, he stops her, reaching into his satchel.

"You're still bleeding. Let me,"

"You don't have to—"

"My fault. I should have warned you about the fairies. They can be vicious themselves, especially when they feel threatened. Don't _they_, Tink?" Tinker Bell pouts, watching with great annoyance as he gently dabs a white-sealed ointment onto her skin.

"It's really not that bad, I've had worse,"

"I don't doubt that."

Once he's finished tending to her wounds, he lingers, unwilling to let her go. She brushes her long hair away from her face, all too aware of what's about to form between them.

"I'm sorry," She mutters, meeting him halfway. "I was out of line."

"That's what I like best about you, Emma," Smiling, her fingers locked in his, he won't let go. "You're not afraid to step out of line, dabbing your toes in the extreme. You really would make one hell of a pirate."

"It's good to know I have my options. Comforting, too."

"Ah, yes. Your sarcasm is my second favorite thing, with your _wit _ranking in as a close third."

"I hone my skills well. Feel free to give me back my _hand_, by the way,"

"You have the other. Must be a luxury, to have two hands," Licking his lips, she pulls her hand back, an eyebrow raised. "You seem to be doing wonderfully with just the one. More than capable, actually—"

"Do you two_ ever_ shut up?" Tink flutters between them, putting an end to their banter.

"How could I ever tire of conversing with this woman, Tink?"

Emma snorts, suddenly distracted by the motion of her thoughts. "She has a point, Hook. We need to work on that plan. How are we getting to Henry if there are pirates all along that sector? Is there a way—why are you _laughing?_"

"You. Steering towards Skull Rock in a blaze of glory. I can't get the image of you charging past the Hollow-where are you going, it was just a laugh!"

"I think you may be suffering from a seizure. Make sure Tink holds your head back, it will prevent you from swallowing your tongue."

"Not a fan of _swallowing_, then. Dually noted."

Though he feels a sharp pain when she elbows him in the ribs, he's too elated by the feel of her against him.

There is no going back.

The scarf he keeps wrapped around his hand is blue, knitted with patterns of black and red. It was one Milah gave him. They spend another night along a lake. A different lake, one sequined with the blood of the Indians. Their plan is not a perfect one, but it's the only one they have. Emma is beginning to grow desperate, and although she attempts to keep herself together, Hook can see the cracks. She doesn't let herself sleep, and when she does, she mutters Henry's name with a reckless kind of agony.

This is different from Milah, too. Hook knows that she loved Bae. She loved her boy more than anything in the world, but she didn't believe she could be the mother he deserved. Milah made no excuses. She knew who she was. She was a seeker of adventure, dazzle and light. She was a nomad, and a recluse, and though he loved her then, he doesn't know if he could love her now. He sees the way Emma places her life on hold to defend her son, and he realizes that Milah would very well still be alive had she not ran off with him to the high seas. He fights for Milah now and justice in her name because he loved her. But wasn't there a line? How could he have fallen in love with someone so selfish? He was a Lost Boy in this place. In Emma's version of the story, that part was misplaced, too. He was Lost Boy. He has no family to his name. So how could he love a woman who left her son to wander alone in a place of darkness?

These thoughts grieve him and something is advancing; he deteriorates in this light. Pulling off the scarf, by the dim of the moon, the tattoo is no longer fading: Milah's name is completely gone.

By morning, he notes the faint outline of an _E_ beginning to form. How can it happen like this? How does his heart beat for another so easily, just like that?

"You okay, Hook?"

Emma and Tink are both staring at him, curious as the daylight begins.

"Fine," He covers his hand with the scarf, his voice conveying nothing. "Sleep well?"

She shrugs, pulling her hair back to the base of her neck. "I'll sleep a lot better once we find Henry."

"It shouldn't be long now. We should be there by noon. Tink, love, do you think you could get there sooner?"

"I could get there sooner. _I_ can fly." Complimenting Tink is part of the plan.

"Tinker Bell," With a voice like honey, his words stick sweet, recalling the first part of the plan. "Remember the plan. You survey the scene and wait for our arrival.

"Why yes, Captain, I _would._" With a dash of pixie dust, she blows him a kiss, veering off towards the blinding sun.

"And so the first part of the plan is in motion,"

"I still think including a _fairy _in on the plan was a risk. Her mood swings are so up and down my head is spinning."

"And to think she's more level headed than the lot of them."

Emma stares at him, stifling a yawn as she glares. "You call _tha_t level headed?"

He laughs, the sound catching between them. "Emma, for a fairy, Tinker Bell is as mild mannered as they come. And besides, she was the one who located Henry. I couldn't very well not allow her to participate. She loves adventure more than approval."

"I'm pretty sure her band of misfit fairies found Henry, actually,"

"If you're planning on arguing with me every step of the way, sweets, this last leg of the journey will be excruciating."

Though he feigns annoyance, she recognizes the smile that curves at his jaw.

"I wouldn't be arguing if you weren't so infuriating."

The sound of laughter echoes between them. This is a fixed point. When he reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, guiding her through the many trenches of Neverland. He doesn't know if she feels what he feels, but he is certain something has profoundly altered between them. He can feel it, and he can channel it, the grasp of her fingers intertwined through his.

"What's with the scarf?" She punctures the silence, lifting their locked hands to the light. With her eyebrows raised, she wonders how she didn't notice it before, just now feeling the cloth that lines his arm down to the front of his hand.

He opens his mouth, feeling a dryness setting in. They've been walking for hours hand in hand; he can't recall a more natural feeling. Just as he forms a response, a rush of pixie dust descends below them.

"He's here, Captain, he's _here_!" Tink collides into his chest, her small voice quivering in the quiet.

"Tink—"

"_He's_ here, he's _here_, _he's here_!"

At once, he realizes who she means, and he feels a dull burn churn in his stomach.

"Did you find the Lost Boys?" Emm's voice is eager, tinted with desperation. Tink ignores her, her wings in a haze, pulling at the front of Hook's shirt.

"The boy, Tink? Is Henry there?"

"I didn't _see_ the Lost Boys, I just saw _him_, _he's here_, Hook and he knows _you're_ here—"

"What is she _talking_ about?"

"Emma, listen to me," There's an urgency in his voice, one she hasn't heard before, and the grip of his hand on her arm is something else entirely. "I'm making an amendment to the plan. Once you find Henry, you take him to the Jolly Roger-"

"Hook, what the _hell_ is going on?"

"That's not important now, all that matters is that you and Henry are safe, do you understand?"

"No, I don't, because you're not telling me what's happening!"

"It's Davy Jones! _Davy Jones_! He's the Captain's most menacing enemy!"

"_Tinker Bell_—"

"Davy Jones? Are you freaking _kidding_ me?"

"It's a long story—"

"And no doubt completely different than the version I've heard, right?"

"Undoubtedly—"

"So what's the plan now? Where does that leave _Henry_?" There's a hard blaze in her eyes, and he doesn't have the heart to tell her what he knows. He can't change course now.

"We go in as planned. Leave Jones to me and Tink." Tink opens her mouth with a line of shock, eyes bulging in place. Before Emma can react, he takes her hand, pulling her forward.

By the time they reach the connecting island, they note the circle of pirate ships form around the opening. Mouths of open water chart the rock, and Emma's thoughts venture towards her son among the high cliffs, surrounded by nothing but open water. Hook notes the rush of color that leaves her, reeling in an empty boat. Tink sprinkles pixie dust at the sides, speeding the boat towards Skull Rock at full speed, hidden beneath a sheath of magic.

_Almost there, Henry, _

The thought brings her a lasting eruption of joy.

"So," Emma begins, crossing her arms across her chest in evasion of the cold. "You going to clue me in on Davy Jones?"

"The less you know, the better," He doesn't look at her. "My priority is getting you and Henry out of here as soon as possible."

"Hook—"

"Imagine if we had just stayed on the Jolly Roger, right by the opening," Smiling, he turns to Emma, a gleam in his eye. "The Lost Boys would have come straight to us. They would have ended right where we started. Ironic, isn't it?"

"What is it that your afraid of?" The smile almost falters. Almost. Her voice is barely above whisper.

"Me? I fear nothing. I've seen things you should never hear of."

The boat reaches the ledge of a rock, and Tink ties the rope around the base with a flint of dust.

"This is it, oh, this is it, this is it, Captain—"  
Reaching for Emma's hand, he pulls her from the boat, ignoring the questioning look that passes.

"You're worried he's going to hurt you." She says, stepping onto the isolated island.

"I'm worried he's going to hurt you and Henry, _Emma_, can't you see that?"

Her mouth opens, but just so. She doesn't do so well with vulnerability. She doesn't _know_ how to let her guard down. The implication behind his words and the way he looks at her tells her this isn't about a kiss or a moment or a night beneath a mermaid's cove. For the first time, with his hand hovering inches from hers, she realizes he may want more, and it scares her that she may want more, too.

"Then we find Henry and we get out, and we do it now,"

Turning towards Tink, she won't let herself think about what she feels or what it means. "Do you have any idea where they might be?"

"_Peter _always went to the Crow's Window, it's at the very end top of the Rock. You would have to climb."

"So let's climb."

There hands are busy.

Hook talks them through the semantics; with Hook's knowledge of the island and Tink's Pixie dust, they lurk in the shadows, beginning the steady climb to Crow's Window. Emma doesn't dare look down as she steps up a steep row of rocks, mildly comforted by the pixie dust that keeps them afloat. She repeats Henry's name like a mantra, a rhythm that guides her forward. She's all too aware of Hook next to her, movements steady and calm, and she feels a lurch in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of the possibilities.

"Not as simple as climbing a beanstalk, is it?" His words cut through the air, punctured with an ease.

"There was definitely nothing simple about that beanstalk."

"No?"

There's that gleam in his eye again. The one she can't ignore.

"Are we still talking about climbing?"

"I don't know, darling. You tell me."

She can't get into this now. Not with Henry so close to her. Not ever.

Hook watches as she quickens her movements, picking up the pace as she steers up the Rock. Below him, he can see the waves dancing around the island, tiny specs of black alerting him to the arrival of the pirates. They were lucky to bypass the ones by the shore, but they're increasing now, and he doesn't now how look it will take Davy Jones to learn that he's here.

"Damn it, Swan," he mutters, wondering how he could possibly lose her when he doesn't even have her. She felt it, too, didn't she?

"Where's the fire?" he calls out, nearly reaching her pace.

"You said they don't stay in the same place for long. I want to make sure we get there before the Lost Boys decided to camp elsewhere in the middle of no-man's land,"

Despite her angular movements, he knows every step of this island, and he reaches her side moments later.

"I think you mean Neverland, but nice play on words," Next to her, he can spell her hair and the see the freckles that line the nape of her neck. She stiffens as he moves, and he's almost certain then that she feels it.

They finally reach the top, out of sorts and panting for a thrill of other reasons. Hook reaches steep land first, extending his hand out to her. Emma pulls herself forward without his help, ignoring his motions.

_So this is what it's like now, _He thinks. _Playing hard to get, apparently. _

"So this is Crow's Window? There's nothing—"

"CHHHHHARGE!"

Suddenly Emma is pushed to the ground; the harsh wind combined with the pressure of an overweight boy with a guard-like scepter in hand, hallowed into the ground.

"Guys! I found intruders! This ones a _girl!_"

"Get—_off_—me"

"Silence! You are my prisoner! You—_hey_!" Using his hook to pull the boy off from Emma, Hook throttles him backward.

"A man does not pin himself over a woman unless she _permits_ it, mate,"

The three boys that followed the sound of the screams slowly retreat, staring from Hook to Emma to Tink with a mix of admiration and fear.

"I'm not a man, I'm a _boy_!"

"Clearly. You, buffoon who nearly knocked me over the cliff," He turns his attention to the smallest boy at the left, "Where are the rest of the Lost Boys?"

"Over—over there. We built a fort under the mound of rocks. There's a small cave under that clearing,"

"How conspicuous. The official hide out, I presume?"

The harsh wind and altitude rocks them forward, and Emma fights the feeling od nausea that forms.

"_Whose _asking?"

"Yeah! Why should we tell you?"

Hook releases the boy who attacked Emma, framing his hook in full view.

"It's him!"

"_Captain Hoook_!

"You idiot, why did you attack him?"

"How should _I_ know it was him?"

"_HEY_," Emma steps forward, massaging the newly formed kink in her neck. "I don't know how things are currently run here at Lost Boy central, but you just insulted Captain Hook and Tinker Bell, Peter's first fairy in command."

The boys gasp in unison, three collective sighs mounting the air.

"_Tink_?"

"It was his fault, he should have known-!"

"Oh, _don't _tell Peter, _please_—" Falling to their knees, Tink crosses her arms across her chest, marveling at the sight of four of the Lost Boys at their knees in front of her.

"You _should_ be sorry. Things sure have changed since _Peter_ was in charge."

"That's _enough_, boys. Take us to the hideout." Hook's voice alerts them, and they stand up without another word. "And remember—Tink has quite the temper."

They scramble into line, glancing at Tink with reserve as she hovers over them.

"You okay, love?"

"Oh, I'm great. It's not everyday you get attacked by an army of fairies and thrown to the ground by a 200 –pound Lost Boy," Though their high above sea level, she can still hear the ocean, almost as if it's rocking next to them. Emma notes the crows that have strewn themselves along various points at the top of island, isolating the name Crow's Window. It is a barren place—miles above the ground, there is nothing here but rocks and darkness, and it hurts Emma that this is where she will find Henry.

The Boys enter a cave at the far end, hidden by a tear of moss. Emma follows Hook down a narrow path, where a damp, darkened alcove is surrounded by a string of candles. The remainder of the Lost Boys are scattered across a sea of makeshift hammocks and mattresses, playing cards and using chalk to drawn along the cave walls. It's a lonely place, a desolate place, marked by the leave of lost children with nothing else to keep. As Hook and Emma enter through, Emma finds Henry perched on a hammock to the left of the cave, a book in his hand.

_ "Henry!" _

The room falls quiet. Among a row of whispers, Henry turns from his hammock, beaming at the sight of his mother.

"MOM!"

The whispers grow as Henry flings himself into her arms, and it takes everything within Emma's power to stifle the sound of her sobs.

"Oh, my god," Holding tightly, she doesn't think she'll ever let go. "I have missed you _so_ much, kid,"

"Did he call her _mom_?"

"Whose the man lurking behind her?"

"Show some _respec_t, Samuel, that's Captain Hook,"

"_The _Captain Hook?"

Among the voices that stretch into the crowd, the Lost Boys form into a circle, surrounding Hook.

"Easy, boys, easy! Henry belongs to Emma here, we've come to take him home,"

"Henry can't leave, he's one of us now!"

"Yeah!"

Leaning towards Emma, Henry whispers, "None of them have moms. I kind of felt bad telling them I kind of have two…_plus_ a dad."

Emma smiles, wiping off the smears of red paint that coat around his cheeks. Native American symbols are etched across his skin.

"You're too good, you know that?"

"yeah," He shrugs, "I know." Facing the Lost Boys, he calls for their attention. "You guys are the _best._ I'll never forget all the adventures we had. But I have to go home now—my mom came all the way from Storybrooke with Hook to find me."

"Must be nice to have a mom," One mutter.

"_And_ Captain Hook looking for you." Then another.

"Not fair." A third.

"Not fair _at all." And a fourth. _

Emma turns to Hook, an eyebrow raised. "Are they always like this?" She whispers, dumfounded as the Boys reach for Henry.

"Actually," He grins, "They seem rather tame right now. We might have some trouble extracting him."

"Looks that way. Henry, why don't we wait for you outside while you say goodbye?

"We can't we stay a little longer?" He pleads, turning from Emma to Hook. "They're my brothers now. I can't just abandon them,"

"There are dangerous pirates lurking below, my friend. It isn't safe now. Best I get you and your mother out of here as soon as possible. As for the rest of you lot," Calling attention to the rest of the boys, the alcove falls silent once more. "It's time to claim hideout away from Skull Rock. This is no place for the Lost Boys. Retreat to safer ground, Tink will guide the way."

A murmur of outcry folds throughout. _No one_ instructs the Lost Boys.

"Davy Jones lurks in our midst, gentleman! Retreat by nightfall!"

"He's kind of bossy," Henry whispers.

"He is, isn't he?" She smiles.

"What are you two whispering about?" Hook looks down at Emma, her arms still wrapped around her son.

"Nothing. Just telling Henry he has five minutes to say goodbye," She gives him a kiss on the forehead, waving to the boys as they crowd. They shake their hands as they pass, candles flickering against the darkness. _These are the Lost Boys, _she thinks, _the ones who found refuge in each other. _

Outside, the wind continues to course in waves. They lean against the opening of the cave, inches apart.

"Hook—"

"Emma—"

They stop just as they start.

"Please, ladies first,"

"It's okay. You go ahead—what I have to say…it's not that important."

"I insist, Emma," He says.

"I just…I don't know how to thank you. Nothing I say will be enough."

"It was my pleasure. He's a good boy, really."

"Not just for finding him here—for _sending_ him here," Something catches in her throat, but she pushes through, unresolved. She has to.

"I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Gold had succeeded in banishing him to wherever it was he tried to send him. So thank you…for everything,"

There's nothing he wants more than to kiss her. From here, he can almost taste her, feel her, sense her though he's numb in more ways than one. Before he can reach her, Henry pushes through the entrance of the cave, souvenirs of the Lost Boy's hideout buried in his arms.

"I'm ready to go back to Storybrooke now. I _think_ I've got enough gifts for everyone,"

"I think so, too," Smiling, she ruffles a hand through his hair.

With a heavy heart, he follows them through the rocky hills of Crow's Window, Tinker Bell floating behind him.

"Have you _told _her that you're not going with them?"

"I was about to," He mutters. "You remember how to steer the Jolly Roger?"

"Do I look _stupid_, Captain?"

"This is very important, Tink,"

"I _know_,"

"Hook, do we really get to use pixie dust to climb down the rock? We didn't have _any _when we climbed up, and it was _so _scary—"

Henry stops when he sees the look on Emma's face, letting her fasten her arms tightly around his chest.

"Let's not talk about that, alright?"

"Right. Emma, you remember the way to the Jolly Roger?"

Puzzled, she cocks her head to the side, frowning. "Well, yeah—"

"Good. I have… certain matters to settle. If I'm not back by midnight, Tink will Captain the ship back to Storybrooke."

"Hook, no," She reluctantly pulls away from Henry; the waves lick their way farther up the Rock. She's not quite sure if she's imagining it, but they've gained height, nearing where they stand. "What _matters_? I'm not leaving you behind,"

"You don't have a _choice_. I am _not _putting your lives in danger."

"You don't have to put yours in danger, either! Are you going to _confront _him?"

"Confront _who_? Mom? Is it a pirate?"

"No one, Henry, he's being reckless and _stupid._ You don't have to confront him," She repeats, a searing setting in.

"I have to, he has something of mine—something I need to get back, and this might be my only chance,"

"_No._ Whatever it is, you can replace it, I'm not leaving you this time!"

"You have to come with us, Hook!" Henry begins. "You're one of us now!"

There is no resolve, no compromise. Their words ring true, and Emma's proclamation that she won't leave him behind this time is enough to make his head spin.

"Fine," A lie is always a lie, even if it isn't tailored so. "Down the Rock we go, then,"

Henry smiles, but Emma isn't reassured. Once they begin to make their way down Crow's Window, her gaze doesn't falter.

"You know, the lowest point of the totem pole is lying to a child."

"Interesting," He quips, "I thought it might be leaving a decent man tied to a beanstalk. Huh. Varying opinions, makes for very constructive debates."

Rolling her eyes, she doesn't look back. "Which is _why_ I'm correcting my mistake. I'm serious, Hook," There is a look of pleading now. He needs to know that she wants him back. "Staying behind isn't an option. I won't let you."

"I love it when you bark out orders," Waves of water begin pooling around them, and he realizes another storm is brewing. "In fact, lets take off all of our clothes and test out some more demands."

"Nice try. Henry is right though, you know,"

"About what?"

The rope latching her down nearly slides, and she tightens her grip around the noose, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You are one of us now."


	4. Chapter 4--The Feeling of You

Chapter 4

_The Feeling of You_

**[NOTE: I'm giving this chapter an M rating based on a very brief attempted rape scene. We all know our girl Emma is a warrior. It's not graphic/explicit in **_**any**_** way, but I want to play it safe. Reviews are much appreciated—all the positive feedback has been incredible. **

"We have to be cautious now," Before she reaches the ground, he tugs on the rope, wrapping his arm around her waist. She doesn't look at him as he reels her in; when there's not a second of peace she can't breathe. "We were extremely lucky on the way up, the Rock will be sworn with his men now."

"How do you know?" Henry leans into Emma, staring at the open landscape. Against the Rock, they find an open crevice, retreating past the sudden bouts of rain.

"Let's just say Davy Jones has ways of knowing I'm here. We get to the Jolly Roger undetected, if possible, and we leave."

"Oh, Captain, there are _many_ flaws in that plan!" Tink glares at him, her wings fluttering in a fit. Tink doesn't understand why he's trying so hard to protect _her_ and the boy.

"I'm aware, Tink, do you have more probable suggestions? I didn't think so,"

Whistling with rage, she watches with contempt as they pull out the map and attempt to formulate their plan to get to the other side of Skull Rock. Henry begs them to light a fire, but Hook says the smoke and flame will alert their location. He takes off his coat and gives it to him, his shirt of leather quickly dampening. Emma's lingering gaze doesn't go unnoticed by her, and judging by the way she snaps her neck towards her son, Tink can assume that Emma doesn't welcome any form of attraction to the Captain.

"Oh, this will be _such_ fun," In Tink's mind, nothing is more festive than an unwanted lust. A lingering kiss. Because, in the end, it's all a stepping stone towards love.

"Henry," She moves towards the claimed Lost Boy, lighting the darkened cave, "Come sit with me. I have so missed hearing of the Lost Boy's adventures. Ever since Peter left me," If pouting is an art, that Tink has perfected it. "I have _no one_ to talk to."

"Can I, mom?"

"As long as you stay close to where I can see you," Emma stares at Tink suspiciously; but it's Hook who voices the feeling.

"Tink, why don't you two sit right by me? Close _proximity _and all,"

Henry laughs as Tink attempts to pull him forward, leaving Hook and Emma to evaluate the map.

"Why does she keep winking at you?"

Hook laughs, leaning against the ground with his elbow propped. "I believe she's attempting to make you feel uncomfortable."

"How does winking at you make me feel uncomfortable?"

"It's more of the intentionally leaving us alone that warrants the discomfort," He begins, grinning with loose lips. "But don't worry, love, we both know I'm a perfect gentleman."

She snorts, pulling her knees to her chest. "If that's the story you're sticking to—"

"Oh, I intend to. Now," Outside, the rain begins to dim, the sun surfacing through. "You already have an exit strategy—"

"_We _have an exist strategy,"

"You really are a _stubborn_ little minx, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," Folding the map against her chest, Emma calls for Henry and Tink. "We leave together, Hook. There's no alterative."

There isn't a doubt in his mind that this will lead to emptiness. He watches closely as she falls to her knees, wrapping her arms around her son once more. Henry laughs as she teases him, and Hook realizes that she is finally at peace. Henry is all she needs.

"I really _tried_, Captain, why didn't you make a move?" Hook tries to ignore Tink as they anchor themselves into the boat, her whispers hovering through the air.

"Not now, Tink. Watch the surrounding areas, please?"

The boat propels into the water, the sun beating on his back. The Jolly Roger faces the very edge of the Rock, where a small island houses his ship. He's almost certain Davy Jones will be waiting there. The ship won't be invisible to him. There are a million things that could go wrong; so many pieces that won't fit, but his priority is in sending Emma and Henry to safety, and that is all he can think of.

Before the boat tips over, he sees nothing but clear, blue water—idyllic as it moves. Images of Milah pass through his mind, fleeting in frame of Emma. When he comes to, all he sees is darkness. As he pulls himself together, he hears a hallow, menacing laugh, and that is when he realizes he is on a mound inside Skull Rock, isolated in darkness.

"Damn it," He groans, forcing himself to stand. The empty boat lies shattered beneath him, and he realizes with a startling renewal of fear that the tidal wave that pulled them inside the pirate's lair wasn't natural. Plunging head first into the water, he frantically searches for Emma and Henry, desperate for a fleeting flame that could alert him to Tinker Bell. The water is cold and cruel as he delves further in, his Hook tearing through every inch of moss and ice.

It's been years since he's been inside this place. The darkened core of the bleak house of the dead is as sinister as he remembers it. Pulling himself to dry land, he reasons that they couldn't have come this far, and the likelihood that they haven't drowned brings a soothing though limited calm.

_This is your home base, idiot! Where would they be?_

There is the cold, cold laugh, echoing from the beginning of the cave to the end. Hook ignores the sound and follows back to the boat, where he forces himself to look at the once place he didn't want to. Hook makes his way to the surface of the ornate rocks, where a thin plank bears the name "Dead Man's Plank." A narrow, elongated surface, Hook and his band of pirates constructed the cliff specifically to force his enemies to "walk the plank." Though dark and rusted, Hook finds Emma sprawled across the edge, unconscious.

_"Emma!"_

Pulling her into her arms, Hook steers her away from Dead Man's Plank, placing his mouth over hers and his hand to her chest.

"Come on, love, _wake up!_"

When she doesn't respond, he covers her body with his. With lips blue as ice and a frozen lair of skin, thoughts of hypothermia cause him to panic.

"Wake up, Emma, we have to find Henry, open your _eyes_," Their mouths are locked together, and he's breathing in air. At once, she finally stirs, retching water as she comes to.

"What—what happen—" Shivering violently, Hook feels nothing but an immense surge of relief, holding her close to his chest and desperate to give her warmth. "You're alright, you're alright, I've got you,"

"He-Henry,"

"We'll find him—"

Despite the shock of cold, Emma pulls back, fighting against his hold.

"Where—_where's Henry_?"

"I don't know," he admits, closing his eyes with the numbness of it all. There is no sign of Tinker Bell, either, and he prays that they are at least together. "We will find him—"

The laugh echoes louder. There is not just the spill, but the the whole paint of it: his voice rocks throughout the Skull. Darkness, cold, and cave.

_"KILLLLIAN, why don't you come and play?"_

"What—what is that?" Emma forces herself to stand, nearly kneeling as she does.

_ "Why don't you come play outside?"_

"it's Davy Jones, just ignore it—"

_"Henry came to play, why don't you come and bring your Swan?"_

"Oh my god, he has Henry," Stifling a sob, Emma closes her eyes, crippling. This is no place for walls. All of her fears are here, just and exposed. "I just _found_ him, Hook, I can't _lose_ him again—"

"You listen to me," Ignoring the harsh sound of the taunts that echo, he takes her by the waist, pulling her towards him. "You are _not_ losing him, you understand? No harm will come to Henry, I _promise_ you that, Emma,"

"You don't know that!" Tears being to pool, streaking into cold. She's still shivering at her core. "You can't make that kind of promise!"

"Yes, I can, and I will! I need you to trust that I can!"

_"Henry is waiting, Killian, and so is your Tink. Won't you come and play?"_

Despite her tears, she fights back, a resolve shifting at the sound of the echo. Davy Jones won't be Henry's end. Hook is certain of it, and Emma is, too. This isn't how his story ends.

"So prove me wrong, then. I'm going to kick this perverted pirate's ass,"

Steering her towards level ground, Emma pulls herself together. Henry needs her now more than ever, and she can't let him down. Emma lets him guide her through the water, drowning out the taunts and leers of Davy Jones. When they finally reach dry land, Emma surges forward, compelled with nothing but thoughts of Henry.

"Weapon at the ready?" He asks, pulling out his sword and tightly fastening his hook.

"Ready," She begins, slowly reaching for her sword. "He's going to regret taking my son."

Davy Jones is waiting for them. He watches from his ship, The Great Voyager, as they circle towards the island, hand in hand.

Grinning, he gives his crew and his First Mate the signal. Like the sound of gunshot from a barrel, his men scurry to dry land, thrashing in the water as they move.

"Lets see how you fare, Captain,"

Argos reaches Emma first. As the First Mate of Davy Jones, he is both ruthless and cunning, and there is nothing he loves more than a beautiful woman. Hook and his girl argue about tactics, yielding their swords forward, unaware that they hide behind the waves. The water settles, slow, and that is when they make the plunge. Before she can react, Argos forces her to the ground, her sword engulfed by water. Killian screams her name, but it's too late for him, too. He is one man matched among six.

"Such a pretty lass," Purring fondly against her skin, Argos plays with her hair, enjoying the leer of disgust that crosses her face. "Tell me, Miss. Swan," Emma fights underneath him, nearly freeing her arm from his grasp. "How does your _lady_ Swan taste?"

"You really want to know?" She manages, unable to move beneath his towering weight.

"Oh, _deeply_," Leaning into her skin, he begins to lick at her collarbone, feeling every inch of her.

"I taste like _metal,"_ Blood tastes like metal, live silver bullets on the tongue. When she sinks her teeth into his check, she can taste the metal. Blood and gunshots, stinging fast. Argos screams in agony, allowing Emma to free her arm and punch him directly where he feels her best. Though he tries to grab her leg as she stands, rage recovering his speed, she runs before he can reach, racing towards Hook at the edge of the island.

Hook severely wounds the two pirates who grabbed him, hook-like wounds engorged in their chests.

"You think six of you lot is enough to best _me?_" Laughing, he stabs an unruly man with a beard, praying to all godliness that he can get to Emma before Argos has his way with her. "I'm Killian Jones, you daft and _spineless_ scalawags,"

"Whose daft _now_?"

Hook falls to the ground, feeling the steel of a boot crush against his back. Drawing blood as he bites on his lip, he can feel the pirate align himself over the kidney, causing a sear of pain to shoot throughout his body.

"The Captain said to bring you in alive, but you don't have to be all in one _piece_," Malicious laughter echoes between them. _Emma_. All he sees are stars. Another pirate shoots forward, rough hands dislocating his shoulder.

"Tell us, Killian, who is the_ true_ Captain Jones?"

His back is searing. His shoulder is numb. Blood pooling at the mouth, he wonders how he could still possibly still be alive.

"Say it!" he spits, and the sound rings in his ear.

"The true…Captain…Jones…is…"

"Yes?" More laughter. Sand. A haze of fog.

"Your…_mother_…actually. I made an…_honest_ woman…out of her,"

_Slam_.

He kicks him, hard, his stomach burning at the touch.

"I'm going to ask you _one_ more time, and then—"

Those screams aren't Hook's. Emma attacks with full force, knocking him over the head with a rock the size of his face. As the pirate who holds down Hook moves towards her, she kicks him in the groin, causing him to kneel over in pain.

He still sees the stars as she pulls his head into her lap, surveying the string of wounds.

"Hook, we have to go, _now_," Her hands are gentle as they connect through various points into his hair and on his chest; he is in agony but she is the blinding light. "Keep your weight on me, just try to stand—"

"Oh, you're not going _anywhere_,"

She hears the bullets set before she can see them. Argos stands over them, a revolver pointed at her head, motioning towards the fallen pirates.

"_Up_, you useless lumps. Play time has come and gone!"

Hook can feel Emma pull him closer, gently caressing the point on his head where he felt the last swift kick. She latches onto him with her dear life, knotting their limbs together.

"Quite wounded, isn't he, lass? Are you always _so ladylike_?"

There is the sound of laughter in a circle. The men close in, blood and anger in a line.

"Where is my _son_?"

There is a crack beneath her composure. She entwines her hand through his, locking fingers. He can barley feel but he can feel her. He can always feel her.

"_I suspect you'll see him soon enough," _

Davy Jones' voice booms through the circle; he approaches Emma and Hook, his presence like a dark shadow that surfaces. Emma squeezes Hook's hand, willing him to stay conscious, and he responds just as she loses hope.

"Good day, Miss. Swan," A smile forms beneath the bushel of his greying beard, black eyes leering towards them.

"I see you've formed quite the attachment to our Killian," Emma winces as he steps towards them, jeering at the sight of her repulsion. "I must say, when I discovered that he returned to Neverland with a young lady, I wasn't expecting anything quite like _you_."

"No?" Hook's pulse begins to weaken; she can feel the change in his neck. "What were you expecting? Another floozy to use and abuse? Fall at your feet in wonder?"

He laughs. "You are a _wench_ of a maiden, aren't you? She's so saucy, Killian, don't let this one go! Looking rather pale, isn't he? Killian, are you still with us?"

The crew laughs heartedly as he jeers at them, golden teeth and rotten mouths exposed. "Ah, yes, is that a grin or a grimace, old mate? Rather_ difficult_ to interpret—really, Miss. Swan, I had thought we reached an understanding, there's no need to hide rocks, is there?"

A sharp slap encloses her check. He grabs the rock she hides under her thigh, his hand roaming for a moment longer.

"I'm so very disappointed, Emma. May I call you Emma?"

Like Argus, he takes a lock of her hair, inhaling the scent deeply. There are too many of them and there is blood lying on the sand, the waves beating before them. She can see the rigid red like on Argos's face where she bit down and Hook is struggling to pull himself together, broken in every inch of skin.

"So _deeply _disappointed. I had thought we could start anew, but it appears you cannot be trusted. Such a _shame_."

The last thing she sees are the peering, ominous black eyes. Seconds later, she feels a pinch, and then everything goes dark.

**OOOOOOOOO**

There is a fade of blackness. The hours lead nowhere. When Hook finally stirs, he sees nothing but black. At first there is the shape and the image of color, and when it finally forms, the searing pain in his head is nothing but a dull ache. He recognizes the interior cabin of The Great Voyager, empty and coated with dust. Groaning as his limbs come to life, his body screams in protest.

"Hook? Are you awake?"

"_Emma?" _

Straining behind him, Hook notes the rope wound around his waist. Tied to a chair in the center of the cabin, he shares the winding of rope with Emma, who is tied to a chair directly behind him, her back aligned against his. Though their necks brush against each other, she feels miles away, and Hook begins to struggle with the ropes.

"God, I've been trying to wake you for the last half hour," She tries to face him, pushing from the rope. "Are you okay?"

"All things considered, I've been much worse," Though the burning in his kidney has lessened, his shoulder still sears in pain. "Are you alright? Did Argos hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Her voice is curt, definite.

"Emma, if he _touched _you—"

"He didn't," There is no crack. Only strength. "I got away before the asshole actually _did_ anything."

"Good. I'm still going to rip his testicles apart, bloody menace—are you sure you're alright, love?"

"I'm fine," They can't face each other, see the curve of the jaw or outline of a smile. But Hook can sense her, knowing the exact line of her mouth and jolt of her eyebrow. He knows her now better than he knows himself. "I'm just worried about Henry. We need to get _out_ of here,"

"I know, I know," There is no use straining beneath the ropes. They bind them tightly to the chair and to each other, and their movements are limited.

"What if I tilt us over?" She suggests, her hope slowly fleeting. "It might give us the leverage we need to untie them,"

"It won't. See the how the legs of the chairs bend into an O? They're welded into the wood,"

When she realizes that he's right, she close her eyes, picturing Henry's smile.

"There has to be something we haven't thought of," The reasoning is the worst, because she knows they've thought of everything. They've spent the past half hour reasoning and planning, and there is no escape. "What are we missing?"

"You have to run."

"_What?"_

"He won't keep you and Henry, you're only here because he's trying to hurt me," Lines of guilt fill his every word. He's grateful she can't see him, because he feels nothing but shame. "You wait for the opportune moment, Emma, and you _run_. Henry will be in one of the other cabins, you find him, and you go to the Jolly Roger—"

"_Stop it_," A second ago there was fear. Now she feels anger, churning from her spine. "You think I don't know that you're blaming yourself? Just stop it, Hook, because this isn't your fault—"

"No? I warned you, Emma-I knew something like this would happen! I should have left you the _second_ we found Henry," Fueled with rage, he can't stop. He's never hated himself quite like this before. "That was my greatest mistake, and I'll _never _forgive myself!"

"God, would you just _shut up_?" Pushing against him, she reels her back against his, hard. "I already told you, you are a part of this, Hook, do you think _I _would be able to forgive myself if I left you?"

He snorts, letting his back rock against hers. Though his shoulder snaps, he ignores the pain. There is nothing but starlight.

"You aren't correcting any mistakes, love. You were right the first time. You made the right choice."

"What are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying. You wasted your time springing me from the jail cell in Storybrooke. I'm not who you want me to be, Swan. I never was."

Emma isn't one to cry. She hates tears and the way they make her feel. But she can feel them forming now, stinging, because this is what they do. They know how to hurt each other worse than anything she's ever seen.

"I don't believe that. You risked everything sending Henry here,"

Emma won't let him know there are tears. She has to fight through it. There is no vulnerability here, not when all they have is each other, knotted in a cabin. Can't he remember the feeling of her fingers tied through his? How could he already forget?

"And you risked even more coming to find him. So even if you forgot who you are, that doesn't mean that I did. I know better now."

Behind her, Hook closes his eyes, taking in her words. Their meaning closes certain wounds, the ones that aren't etched onto his skin.

"So this is how it goes. We build each other up and then tear each other down, only to repeat the cycle?"

"We seem to have a talent for it," She says, smiling in spite of herself. He smiles, too, if only because he can feel that the tears have gone.

"Emma," His voice is softer now. "I am so sorry."

"I could never blame you,"

"That's not what I'm apologizing for,"

"I know."

For a moment they sit in silence. The distant sound of laughter reverberates throughout the room, reminding them of their defeat. She tries to reason again. Neal will come for Henry when they don't return. Emma tries to remember his face the last time she saw him, wounded on the floor, but she can't see it. The most distinct thing about that moment was the way Hook reached for Henry, sending him to a place where he would be safe.

"This isn't how it ends for you and Henry. You know that, don't you?"

Those words mean something to her. All of his words do. "You're meant to do great things, Swan."

She snorts. "I already broke the curse. That was my only fate."

"You think there are limitations to your strength?"

"There are limitations to my magic. Henry—"

"Emma, _that's _it!"

"Did you just have another seizure? What _was_ that?"

"On rare occasions I'm stunned by random bouts of incompetence—_your magic_. You can use it to get us out of here!"

"I _can't,_ remember? _You're_ the one said magic works differently in Neverland, I wouldn't no where to start—"

"So you won't even _try?_ Would you rather we wait for Argos to return? I suppose it shouldn't be much longer now before he comes to fetch us, meanwhile, Henry—"

"Alright, point taken! What the hell do I do? How does it _work_ here?"

She can feel her nerves shooting in every frame of her body. Emma doesn't feel connected to any shape of magic here, and now it is their only option.

"The crocodile encourages you to feel it rather than think it, yes?" He can't see the tattoo, but he's aware of the letters bleeding through his skin. _Emma_. "There's a thin line between magic and the heart. You have to channel those emotions you feel most strongly, Emma. Your love for Henry. Your desire to find him and keep him safe. Your intense, burning attraction for me."

"_Seriously_?"

"Desperate times, love. _Channel_ it. All of it. Think of your boy."

Emma closes her eyes. She thinks of Henry. She sees his smile. She thinks of every moment of her life that carries any meaning, and they all return to Henry. The first time she saw him, waiting behind her door. The first time he called her mom. Did he ever stop believing in her?

That is when she feels it. The ropes fall away in a purple haze of smoke, drifting into nothing.

"It worked! It actually _worked_!"

They face each other at the exact same moment, their limbs now free to roam as they please. The first thing she does is wrap her arms around his, keeping them together. They're always knitted together, limbs and fingers never apart.

"That's my girl!"

She reaches for his hand, helping him forward, but his body won't relish in their newfound freedom the way hers does.

"It's the shoulder—GAHH!"

Emma snaps his shoulder back into place before he can react, her hand moving to his waist where deep black bruises now thicken his skin.

"I can probably heal this with magic, but I've never tried it before—"

"I know," He interrupts. "First, Henry,"

But he can't stop thinking about her hands. As they make their way towards the cabin door, he recalls the way they felt roaming through his waist, inching their way under his shirt and over his bruises.

"Emma, wait,"

Just as she turns to face him, he kisses her, hard. He can't remember the last time something—anything—felt this good, and if he could, he would freeze this moment in time.

When he pulls back, his hand is still in her hair, down to the neck. She looks back at him with widened surprise, her lips a fresh shade of red, burning.

"What—what the _hell _was that?"

When she doesn't pull back, he leans in again, that grin dancing at his lips. "I would have never forgiven myself if I had died without knowing the feeling of kissing you. Shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5--Lilac Sparrow and the Locket

Chapter 5

_Lilac Sparrow and the Locket at Sea_

**[Note: I am so so SO sorry for the delay in updates…if you're still with me, here's the latest chapter. Reviews are gold. Xoxox.]**

"Just keep your hands where I can see them."

"And my lips? What about my lips?"

"_Especially_ your lips."

They banter in whispers. At his feet lies the pirate assigned to guard the door, sprawled into the cabin they just left. Pirates have their secrets. As they navigate the ship, Emma casts an invisibility shied over them, beginning the search for Henry. The walls are quiet. Most of the crew is on deck, drinking and celebrating their victory. Hook can smell the rum coated on the cabin walls, lingering in the air.

"There,"

By the furthest cabin door is a pirate, meant to guard the contents of the cabin. "They're in there, no doubt. Look at that scum, drinking rum while he's meant to guard his prisoners. He's barely standing, cannot even hold his—what's that glare for, Swan? Imaging your lips on mine?"

"What's the plan, Hook? We can't_ do_ anything that causes a scene, Jones and his men will be all over—"

"No scenes necessary. Watch and learn."

Skeptical, Emma watches closely as Hook approaches the pirate from behind, knocking his over the head with his hook. A thump echo's on the wood just as a chain of laugher forms overhead, blocking out the sound. Hook turns to Emma, a smile on his lips.

"Impressive, no?"

"Extremely. I'm amazed."

Walking towards the cabin, they work together to unlatch the knob, discovering Henry, Tink and a young Indian girl tied together on a bench inside.

"Mom!" Henry cries, leading the girl to panic. "It's okay, she's my mom, she's here to help us!"

"You okay, kid?" Emma pulls the rope binding Henry to the chair, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"I'm fine, the big pirate with the crooked teeth shoved me and Tink in here, but Lilac Sparrow was already in here."

"I take it you are Lilac Sparrow?" Hook unbinds the Indian girl, cautiously reaching for her hand. She nods, looking at Henry before she allows Hook help her stand. A timid girl, her dark black hair hangs to her waist, a row of feathers tattooed on her neck.

"I am Lilac Sparrow. The Captain of this ship took me from my family," She places her hands together, staring at the door with an alertness. "Henry and Tinker Bell have been a great comfort to me. Before they arrived, I was here alone for days."

"Why did they take you?" Emma asks, a gentleness to her voice.

"My father crossed the Captain. He tried to make a deal with him and…and he said no," Lilac Sparrow looks at the floor, averting her gaze. Emma thinks there may be more to the story, but she doesn't press the issue.

"This Davy Jones is sounding more pleasant by the minute. You don't have to worry about him anymore—we're all getting out of here, I promise" Emma looks at Hook, an eagerness etched onto her expression.

"Any ideas?"

"Plenty, but only a few that are rendered sane," Hook extends his arm to Tink, who flutters in earnest. "Tink, my love, alert the Los Boys at once. You know the code." Tink nods in salutation, using pixie dust to open the shut down window.

"You lot, follow me—a pirate's ship is full of secrets."

"Spontaneous escaping again? Nice to see you have your spark back," Emma says, steering Henry and Lilac Sparrow to the door.

"A woman's touch can have that affect," He winks, and Emma unwillingly finds herself thinking of the kiss and the feeling on her lips. She doesn't protest when he places his hand on the small of her back, if only because they are already in tight quarters, and what strikes her most is how naturally the feeling is. Regardless of whether or not she cares to admit it, she knows they fit well together, every crack and crevice fitted with the piece that brings everything full circle.

Hook leads them through the lower cabin of the ship, where shadows creep against the walls. The further they travel down, the smell of rum and whiskey intensifies, chained to the echo of drunken laughter. They reach the ladder that leads to the deck, bracing themselves for the light.

"Henry, listen to me," Emma kneels towards him, her hands firm on his shoulder. "When we get up there, I want you and Lilac Sparrow to take cover and hide, do you hear me?"

A loud blast sounds overhead, a whistle in the air. A string of voices murmur. Lilac Sparrow jumps, her long hair catching in her movements.

"What was that?"

"Mom, I want to help!"

"Henry—"

Another blast. The sound of laughter. Hook knows what these movements means.

"Emma, it's time," Though his demeanor is nonchalant, he bites his lip, hard. "The canon alerts the finest form of sharks and other nasty sea creatures to what's to come—they're preparing for someone to walk the plank,"

"And by someone you mean you?" Emma asks, the fear apparent in her eyes. Gazing towards Henry, she is firmer in her tone, delicate but alert.

"You both stay put until I say so, do you understand?"

Henry reluctantly nods; his hand now clasped in Lilac Sparrow's. They both stare from Hook to Emma, the prospect of anyone walking the plank deeply disturbing to their young minds.

The clasp of the ladder opens. They take a step back.

"Rough him up a bit in front of the Swan girl,"

Argos's voice is slender through the cracks of wood, and the memory of his breath against Emma's neck propels the force of magic coursing through her veins.

"The Captain wants her to see him fall. Let's honor the lass with the memory."

The pirate laughs in merry agreement, staggering below the ladder. As he steps towards the ground, Emma gives Hook the nod, and he uses his hook to knock the pirate unconscious. Without another word, they begin to steadily climb to the deck, roping their way forward.

Argos is waiting with an anchor of rope, and when he sees Emma, unbound and emerging from the ladder, he doubles back, his mouth hanging in an open sneer.

"How the bloody—"

There is the sound of Hook snaking behind her, approaching Argos with a fierce need for payback and revenge in all forms. Before he can react, Hook knees him in the groin, alerting the rest of the crew to the escape of their victims. Just as Argos reaches for Hook's arm, Hook punches him in the nose, at last using the hook to pierce through his check. Argos howls in pain, screaming bloody murder.

"That's for Emma," He breathes hotly next to the blood pooling down his face, wiping the blood off of his hook as if it is nothing but ale. "You really shouldn't have touched her, Argos. Can't you see that she is mine?"

Davy Jones angrily yells for his crew to regain control if his crew, rum dripping from his chin.

"Grab them! Grab them BOTH! Don't let them out of your sight!"

Emma takes a step back, watching calmly as the unruly group of pirates move towards them. Hook leaves Argos bleeding, covered in blood and soot, but Emma can barely hear him over the sound of unruly screams. She closes her eyes, hands shaking, thinking of Henry and his smile and Hook and the kiss that felt more real to her than anything else she can remember.

It is the kiss that brings that magic. With a surge of power, she creates a shield around herself and Hook that is impenetrable. The string of pirates wave in confusion, unable to pass the invisible wall that keeps them from reaching Emma.

"What in the name of—"

"Move, you bloody idiot!"

"I'm trying to, you imbecile!"

Hook chokes back his laughter as he approaches Davy Jones, who waits for him with a sword and an axe. Though the events of the last several minutes have sobered him considerably, he still staggers as he moves, his anger the only thing compelling him forward. Though he swings the axe considerably, the shield around Hook rebounds the steel, propelling the axe to motion overboard. Hook laughs manically as Jones falters back, screaming in frustration.

"You made the wrong move coming back to Neverland, Killian! I was going to allow you a quick and relatively painless death, but now I want to use your ribs to pierce through your veins!"

"What a lovely image you paint, Davy," A sneer plays at his lips. Emma's magic has done more than the trick. "But unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't stay to honor your grand schemes. You have something of mine, remember?"

Though the shield prevents Jones from reaching Hook, the later pirate pushes through the magical field with ease, grabbing him by the throat.

"Do you know what you took from me, Davy?" His hook tears through the leather material of his shirt, until it finds the metal cased locket that falls to his chest. A compass chimed with a clock, a skull forming in an intricate pattern.

"Ah, yes, here it is," Hook throws him to the ground, delicately pulling the locket closer to the light. "Your reign has just come to an end, 'Captain.' Enjoy your remaining days as an average, meek man."

There's the thought that he should kill him. It would be so easy—to stab him with his hook, throw him to the sharks, feed him to the wolves. But he remembers that Henry is on this ship, and he remembers Emma, and he knows that the life he's rendered him to is far worse than death.

The sound of laughter echoes, keeping him planted in place.

"Oh, Killian," Davy Jones ignores the blood that catches, laughing manically on his back. "You are quite the f-ool,"

"Having trouble there, mate?"

He needs to walk away. He knows he should walk away. Emma is steering the ship with Henry at her side, the slew of pirates banging on an invisible wall. All he needs to to do is walk towards her, trailing the ship back to land, and all of this will end.

Hook is never the one to walk away. He should know better, shouldn't he?

"In case you haven't noticed, 'Captain,' the locket is mine now. You, my friend, are _done_,"

"The _locket_," He sneers, blood curling at his lips. "You think this is about the bloody _locket,_ Killian?"

"isn't it always?"

"I wonder," he begins, forcing himself to stand, though he stagers in his blood. "What your magical-S-Swan will think, when she discovers the truth about _you,_"

A moment later his hook is laced around the collar, forcing him back down.

"Emma knows who I am," He says, the anger boiling towards the tipping point. "She knows who I am and she accepts it."

"But she doesn't know every-_thing_, does she?" The laugher comes in waves, madness in sound. "You think she could ever love a pirate? You think she could ever love _you?_"

Hook stares into his eyes, mulling over his words despite the resistance not to. Because he has been contemplating this exact notion, this worry nagging at his chest. When he kissed her, he felt her kissing him, too. But was that love, or a moment of weakness?

"She's not Milah, Killian," The smile widens, revealing loose teeth. "She's no pirate's wench, is she?"

Jones lets a groan of pain loosen from his throat as Hook slams him back to the ground, hard, his hook leaving a gash across the chest. He won't die, this Hook is certain of, but the pain will linger.

"Don't speak of things you don't understand, Davy. You know _nothing_ of love."

Henry beckons Hook forward as he approaches, his small hands clasped around the wheel.

"I'm steering the ship, Hook!"

"Excellent form, lad," he says, stepping towards Emma, "You'll make quite the pirate."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "Don't encourage him. He's already claiming the ship as his."

"Why not? Certainly looks better with Henry behind the wheel than Davy Jones." He smiles. She rolls her eyes.

"Did you get what you needed?"

A grin curves at his mouth; without hesitance, he dangles the locket from his hook, the metal radiating the sunlight.

"What is that?

"This, Emma, is the medallion that controls the seas of Neverland. Whoever owns this locket becomes the pirates all pirates fear."

"Are you _kidding_?"

"The medallion is not a joking matter, love," Hook slides the locket around his neck, immediately feeling a surge of power and resolve. This moment is fleeting. The look on Emma's face signals a change, and when he steps towards her, she turns away from him.

"Henry, why don't you show Lilac Sparrow how to steer the ship?"

The young Indian girl smiles shyly, letting Henry place her hand over the edge of the wheel.

"Do you want to help, mom? I bet you can use your magic to steer faster!"

"That's not a bad idea, kid,"

"Emma—"

"Later," She hisses, stepping behind Henry and Lilac Sparrow.

Hook traces his hand over the locket, unaware of the cause to her sudden change in demur. There is a moment. Adjustments are not made.

Henry calls for Hook, but Emma doesn't look at him as he helps Henry and Lilac Sparrow with the mast. Something has happened between them, and Hook can feel the weight of it in the locket.

These thoughts are interrupted as they finally reach land. They guide the ship onto the beach, greeted by the roar of the Lost Boys. They tail in a line towards the ship, hands wild and furious in the air, Tinker Bell floating above them.

"_CHHHHHAAAARGGGEEE!"_

_ "LOST BOYS TO THE RESCUE!"_

"Watch your step, dofus, The Caption and Henry need us!"

"Uh, guys, why are all the weasel pirates standing _there_?"

"It looks like they're stuck or something."

"No _kidding_, genius,"

"HENRY! HENRY MILLS! WE'VE COME TO RECLAIM YOU!"

"YOU _GUYS_!"

Henry throws himself into the chain of welcoming arms; Emma follows with Lilac Sparrow, the small girl shyly hiding behind.

"Wow, you guys really know how to assemble,"

"You bet we do!"

"Except it doesn't really look like you _needed_ our help,"

"No, lads, afraid we didn't after all,"

Hook casually strolls towards them, an invisible chain leading the fallen pirates off the ship. Davy Jones is centered at the front, unconscious and bleeding at the chest.

"Our Emma Swan is magical. As you can see, the situation has been…contained."

A roar of cheer and applause erupts, and the boys engulf Henry into their grips.

"All right, guys, let's take a breather," Emma tries to suppress a smile; Henry is all grins, perched on the shoulders of one of the burlier Lost Boys. "We need to head to Indian Camp. This ones been separated from her family." Lilac Sparrow reluctantly peers from behind Emma, her long lashes illuminating.

"To Indian Camp it is, boys!"

"Adventure on, Lilac Sparrow!"

Without another word, they pull her into a circle, chanting a claim over Indian Camp. Hook watches as Emma follows, never looking back.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They walk for miles. The pirates loop behind them, hurling insults and threats that mean nothing to them. Hook isn't a fool, though. He knows women, and he knows Emma in particular.

"Why don't you just ask her why she's angry, Caption?"

Tink is perched onto his Hook, adjusting her blonde hair into a braid. Ahead of them, Emma and Henry hold hands, laughing as two of the Lost Boys imitate Davy Jones.

"Because she needs space, Tink,"

"_Space_," A flutter of pixie dust. "Why are women always going on and on about _space_? It's always _time and_ space, isn't it?"

"Afraid so, love. A violation of those two degrees is punishable, and not in the way I enjoy."

Tink nods sympathetically, the rest of their travels mounting in silence. It isn't until nightfall that Hook finds the urgency to speak to her, unable to suppress his annoyance. There are no caves where they settle. The Lost Boys produce a row of tents in every shape and color, setting up camp along a stream. The boys chat happily as they arrange their tents, gathering wood for fire.

Emma finds herself alone at the opening of the tent she's to share with Lilac Sparrow, watching as Henry shows her how to light a match to create a flame. She's seen that look before. There's something catching between her son and this girl with the long lashes, and Emma feels a dull burn forming in her stomach as she recalls young love and the devastation that follows.

She doesn't want to remember Neal because Neal broke her in every place. She goes back to the kiss, because that seems to be where everything comes along. With the flames now dancing at the center, she feels Hook before she can see him. He sits next to her, the scent of him overwhelming.

"Excellent evening for campfire, isn't it?"

There's the urge to walk away or throttle him. Neither are mutually exclusive.

"Is this your attempt at small talk?"

"I don't do small talk, love."

"I can see that."

"Alright," he begins, a note of exasperation in his tone. "Shall I guess what has you cross with me?"

"Please don't," She begins, rolling her eyes. "Sexually suggestive comments will ensue."

"Most likely."

"Really?"

"Tell me, Emma," He leans forward, his eyes never wavering from her. "Was it the kiss, or the locket?"

"How about both?"

The hurt flashes in seconds. Emma sees it and feels the slightest pang of guilt, but who is she if not a mother?

"I see. Apparently I've been wasting your time."

When he makes a move to stand, she digs her nails into his arm, forcing him back down. "Don't _do_ that! Look, you're just an _idiot._"

"Care to elaborate on that?" He snorts, but there's nothing particularly funny here.

"This was all about your inflated _ego_. You risked your life so you could be king of the _pirates_? Is it _worth_ it? Do you even _realize_—"

"I warned you, Emma," The exasperation has turned to anger, and this isn't lost on Emma. "I told you to take Henry and take the Jolly Roger back to Storybrooke, didn't I? _You _were the one that insisted—rather _forcefull_y, might I add, that you were coming with me!"

"I don't regret coming with you! But maybe if I had known what you were risking your life for, I wouldn't have put _Henry_ at risk!"

"Emma, the _last_ thing I wanted was to put Henry at risk, damn it!"

The Lost Boys turn from their circle around the fire to stare, and giggles begin to hiccup in waves.

"There's nothing to see here, lads! Just a lover's spat, nothing more!"

"Oh my _god_," Emma pulls him into the tent, zipping it shut.

"Well, this is forward, but I can't say that I'm displeased, love," She rolls her eyes as he grins, crossing her legs to her chest.

"I brought you in here so we could _talk, _pervert."

"Or rather so you can finish yelling at me, eh?" His voice softens. They are back to their more recent musings. In the soft lighting of the tent, everything is illuminated.

"I—look, I meant everything I said on he ship. All of it. I just can't believe that you put yourself in that kind of danger for a _locket_. I shouldn't even be surprised. That's what pirates _do_."

"Whoever wears the locket controls the seas of Neverland, love—the waters adhere to good and bad. Jones wouldn't be powerless without it."

"So the fact that Neverland is basically under your control has no appeal to you." This is a statement, not a question, and its chained with sarcasm. Hook scratches his chin, a grin lurking.

"Well, it's not an unwelcome advantage. It's been decades since I last carried this locket. But let's not pretend, Emma—we both know the real reason why you're angry."

The confidence that surges from his voice crackles in his eyes. It lies in every orifice of his skin, palpable in his movements.

"Wrong," She says, inching backwards and he moves forwards.

"Now how can it be wrong if I haven't even told you?" _That stupid grin_, she thinks. _Stupid_.

"Because you're usually wrong. Moving on."

"You were worried about me. You thought I was being reckless and stupid, and you were _concerned_."

When his hand finds her knee, she finds herself conflicted. Between the sensations she's left with wanting and needing, but she can't let herself submit. There is too much to think about. She has to be wise, doesn't she?

But she doesn't move his hand. She finds his gaze, and she knows she can't lie. Alone in a tent, flames from a fire lick the winds next to them. These walls are crashing down.

"Of course I was concerned. You _were_ being reckless and you are stupid."

The grin is gone. But there's still a shadow. She doesn't look at him. "And the kiss?"

"We don't need to read into to. It happened. I'm going to go find Henry,"

But his hand is still on her knee. And before she can move, before she can think or smile or breathe, he's kissing her again, and she's kissing him back, despite the protest that bends every bone in her body.

When they break apart, his hand is in her hair, just at the nape of her neck. Her hands are steady at his waist, folding into the leather.

"We can't do this," She says, resolving to do better.

"You're already doing it," He murmurs, lips against her jaw.

"Hook, I'm serious—"

"Why?"

The question takes her by surprise. Does she even have an answer?

"I need to go find Henry."

As the tent shields behind her, he feels nothing but cold.


End file.
